


Lowest Level

by hmweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hermione Saves the Day, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Character Death, Resurrection Stone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 02:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17295740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: In the aftermath of Fred's death, Ron's grief sends him into the Forbidden Forest in search of the Resurrection Stone. Once he finds it, however, he's overcome with uncertainty and guilt that leaves him paralyzed, with no idea what to do next.





	Lowest Level

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts:  
> (word) level  
> (item) Resurrection Stone

A creature ambled through the forest undergrowth, rustling the leaves and keeping Ron on high alert. His eyes darted all around him as he travelled farther into the Forbidden Forest. He knew what he was doing was a terrible idea, but the ring called to him in a way it never would have before he’d discovered that his brother was dead.

The forest was no less terrifying than it had been when he had been sent into it for detention in his first year. Some of the Death Eaters had run off before they could be rounded up at the end of the battle, and he had no way of knowing how many of them were still hiding out in the forest until they could get to a safer hiding place. He also hadn’t forgotten about the various non-human dangers the forest possessed. Memories of Aragog’s countless children sent shivers down his spine.

Still, the ring called to him, driving him forward. It was a dangerous object. He was aware of that with each step he took. If he were to give the ring to his family, they’d refuse to use it no matter how much they longed to; that was why Ron had decided to come alone.

When Percy had abandoned the family, Ron had thought his mother was at her lowest. Nothing could have prepared him for her reaction to Fred’s death, not even her reaction to the Boggart in Grimmauld Place. The only thing worse than seeing Molly had been George’s reaction. Even Ron felt hollow. It wasn’t something he’d experienced in the aftermath of the other deaths during the war. It had been nearly a full day since he’d seen his brother’s lifeless body for the first time, and he still hadn’t internalized the truth that he’d never see Fred animated again.

Not as he’d once been at least. There was still the potential to see him moving around, laughing, even if it would never be quite the same if what Harry had said was true. The ring called to him, pulling him forward. No one else had ventured into the forest since the battle, and Ron was thankful Harry had kept the location of the ring a secret from everyone except his two closest friends. Ron knew that was the only reason he was alone in his search.

Of course, he felt far too much shame to have told Harry or Hermione where he was going. He knew using the Resurrection Stone was idiotic at best and suicidal at worst. There was a good chance it would hurt his family more than it would help them, yet the ring pulled him forward. He needed to hold it, to know he had the power to bring Fred back. He craved it. Maybe then he would feel a little less helpless than he had since he’d seen Fred lying motionless on the floor of the Great Hall.

Harry had carried the ring all the way to his meeting with Voldemort before unceremoniously dropping it to the ground, hoping for it to be lost forever. The logs the Death Eaters had used were still in a circle around an extinguished fire when Ron found it after an hour of searching. He knew it was the right place; he could sense the Dark Magic that hung in the air. It urged him to leave and never return. Instead, he pulled out his wand and summoned the ring.

It came easily, almost too easily. Ron hadn’t expected it to respond to the charm. He’d had every intention of getting on his hands and knees to hunt through the undergrowth himself. Staring down at the ring, he tried to process that it was the Resurrection Stone of legend. In the short time it had been abandoned, it had become covered in dirt. The stone itself was cracked down the middle as a consequence of Dumbledore destroying the Horcrux it had housed.

The piece of jewelry would have appeared unremarkable if Ron hadn’t felt the hum of magic within it. The magic was far different that the magic of the locket horcrux he had once worn around his neck. It felt stronger—older—and it didn’t feel anywhere near as threatening. It comforted Ron and told him that it would offer solace.

He shook his head, trying to clear the enveloping fog from his thoughts. The temptation to immediately turn the ring over in his hand and summon Fred from the dead was strong, but he couldn’t do it in the Forbidden Forest. Fred deserved better than to come back to such a place.

If he went through with it, he would assure that Fred’s return to the world took place somewhere far happier than the Forbidden Forest. He slipped the ring in his pocket and hoped that no one would be able to sense its magic like he could as he made his way back up to the castle.

* * *

For weeks, the ring sat untouched in the bottom drawer beside Ron’s bed. The Burrow was busier than ever as no one wanted to be alone. No matter how desperately Ron wanted a moment alone, he couldn't manage it. That wasn’t how his family members were dealing with their grief. And though he had retrieved the ring for them, fear paralyzed him when he thought of revealing what he had done and facing their judgment.

It would be better to bring Fred back first.

Faced with Fred, they’d be too overjoyed to be angry. No one would have the strength to send him back to wherever the dead went. If they saw the ring first, their principles wouldn’t allow them to use it. They would continue to struggle with their grief, so Ron kept the ring locked in his drawer until he found the right moment to use it.

But as the weeks went on, he became increasingly agitated knowing Fred could easily be brought back. All it would have taken were a few minutes—maybe less—and Ron would have his brother, George his twin, his mother her son… Everything would be okay again. He could make it happen if only he could use the ring without being stopped.

The knowledge ate away at him until he found it difficult to function. No one thought much of it at first as they were all mourning in different ways, but he and Hermione’s relationship wasn’t what it used to be. It was more. And Ron couldn’t focus on how happy that made him when all he could think about, day and night, was the ring hidden in his room. The rest of the family was too distracted to notice, but Hermione wasn’t.

When she cornered him in his bedroom one morning, he knew what was coming, but he wasn’t prepared for it. He was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as Hermione stood over his bed, frustrated as always by how late he was getting up. He had been making excuses, pretending that it wasn’t because he was laying awake for hours debating using the ring even as Harry slept on the other side of the room.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong,” she said, hands on her hips as she glared at him.

Ron sighed, running a hand over his eyes. He stared down at his Chudley Cannons bedspread as he ran through possible excuses, but he’d exhausted, ‘My brother is dead,’ days ago, and he had nothing else.

“Nothing is wrong,” he tried, but he couldn’t look her in the eyes as he said it.

Hermione sat beside him on the edge of the bed, their arms brushing as she moved. She looked tired. Ron had to remind himself sometimes that she had cared for Fred, too, even if he hadn’t been her brother, and they’d lost other people: Tonks, Remus, Lavender, Collin… The list of people he could bring back felt endless.

There were more people he could bring back than just those lost in the battle too. He could bring back Sirius for Harry and his uncles Fabian and Gideon for his mum.

“I have the Resurrection Stone,” he admitted.

He’d held in the secret too long, and it burst from him without his permission. He cringed at Hermione’s loud gasp.

“No,” she said quietly, more of a wish for it to be true than because she didn’t believe him. “How? Harry dropped it in the Forbidden Forest.”

“And I went and got it,” Ron said, raising his eyes to meet hers for the first time since she’d towered over him. “It wasn’t that difficult once I found Aragog’s old lair where the Death Eaters had set up camp. Did you know the ring can be summoned? If there used to be protective enchantments on it, they’re gone now.”

Hermione looked at him for a second. He didn’t notice her pulling her wand from her pocket until she muttered, “ _Accio_ Resurrection Stone.”

Sure enough, the ring escaped from the drawer and flew into Hermione’s hand just like it had Ron’s. The way Hermione stared at it was with no less amazement than Ron had felt when he first touched it. He knew she could feel the power within the object just as he’d been able to.

“Ron.” Hermione’s voice shook. “You can’t use this.”

Ron’s shoulders slumped. It was the response he’d expected if anyone learned he had the ring, but he’d hoped for something different. The worst part was that he knew she was right. He kept making excuses to himself that his family being around was the reason he hadn’t used it, but that wasn’t entirely true. A large part of him wished to use the ring; it felt almost physically painful to stay away from it. But another, more sensible part of him was scared of the power the ring held. The suicide of the second brother weighed heavily on his mind.

When he spoke again, it was around a sob.

“Hermione, I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t give it to someone else, but it’s just there, tempting me to use it.”

Sobs racked his body, and Hermione dropped the ring onto the bed to wrap her arms around him. He had no idea how long he cried on her shoulder, but it was long enough that the sobs gradually died. He kept his head resting against her. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he could hear her heartbeat. It calmed him.

“We’ll get rid of it,” Hermione said slowly. “Let me take care of it.”

The words were almost enough to make him cry again. A weight lifted from his shoulders at the knowledge that he wasn’t solely responsible for the ring any longer. Though he had no idea what Hermione would do with it, he was certain she’d have better luck solving the problem than he would. She was stronger than him; she always had been.

When she tucked the ring into her pocket, out of sight, he pulled her close again, thanking her silently when words failed him.

* * *

Several weeks later, Ron followed Hermione down, down, down to the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic. Unease settled in his chest as they went. Logically, he knew Kingsley had taken over as Minister and no harm would come to them within the Ministry’s walls. Still, he couldn’t shake the memories of what had happened the last time they were there, and it did nothing to convince him that he and Hermione were making the right choice.

“How can we trust the Ministry with this?” he asked, motioning towards Hermione’s bag, which he knew was hiding the ring. “Haven’t we learned to never trust the Ministry?”

“No, we haven’t,” said Hermione, hardly glancing at him as she continued to walk with purpose.

They were low enough in the bowels of the Ministry that few other people were around.

“What I’ve learned is to be careful about what you trust the Ministry with. This ring is dangerous to society, not just any individual. I don’t feel comfortable with it being anywhere except in the Department of Mysteries. The Ministry wouldn’t want this power getting out either, and the Unspeakables aren’t subject to the whims of any power hungry demagogue who may come along. Even when Voldemort gained control of the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries remained largely uncompromised. They’ll keep it safe. Far safer than we ever could.”

She came to a stop in front of a nondescript door. 

“This is where she told me to go,” Hermione said, answering Ron’s unspoken question.

There was no sign on the door to inform them what office it was, and the hallway was devoid of any other doors either. It was nothing like the entrance to the Department of Mysteries that they’d entered in their fifth year, but Ron supposed he shouldn’t have expected to go there. They’d never have let them in with permission.

The door opened, revealing a woman in plain robes. Even though she wasn’t in the uniform of an Unspeakable, something about the way she carried herself alerted to Ron immediately that she was one. She wore heels that made her tower over even Ron, and the fire in her eyes made him certain that she wasn’t someone to mess with.

Her face was expressionless and strangely shifted as Ron looked at her, as if filtering through different faces in quick succession. He blinked, struggling against the confusion looking at her created in his mind, and he realized belatedly that she was disguising her appearance using advanced magic that he couldn’t begin to fathom.

She leaned out the door long enough to look towards both ends of the hall. She muttered a quick spell, her voice containing the same shifting quality as her face, before she was satisfied that they were alone.

“You’ve come into possession of the Resurrection Stone,” she stated, her voice carrying enough disapproval to make Professor McGonagall proud.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione stuttered, as thrown off as Ron was by the woman’s overpowering presence.

She fumbled with her bag before tugging the ring out, almost dropping the box she’d placed it inside in the process. The woman snatched the box from Hermione’s hand before she was offered it, opening it and inspecting the ring with narrowed eyes. Whatever she was looking for, she appeared to have found it as she snapped the box closed. She kept it clenched in her fist as she positioned it behind her back.

When she spoke again, it was with the authority of a response that had been cleared through several layers of bureaucracy.

“Rest assured that your identities will be erased from the record of how this artefact was procured. All of the proper procedures will be followed in keeping it safe and preventing it from causing more harm to society. We ask that the artefact’s existence not be disclosed to others.”

She raised one eyebrow, prompting Ron and Hermione to eagerly attest that they wouldn’t share information about the ring with anyone. The idea of the wrong person learning of it sent shivers down Ron’s spine. He itched to get away from the woman and leave the responsibility for the ring in her hands.

“Very well,” the woman said. “That will be all. Have a nice day.”

She closed the door in their faces, and Ron sagged in relief, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. Hermione joined him, the two of them breaking into giggles when they made eye contact. 

Ron wrapped Hermione in his arms, squeezing her tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into her ear, leading Hermione’s arms to tighten around his waist.

He pulled back just far enough to see that she was smiling as widely as he was.

“I feel so light,” he revealed, picking Hermione up to spin her around in a moment of pure relief.

Hermione laughed as he set her back on her feet, but after a second, her face became stern.

“Next time you have a problem, tell me right away,” she said, her hands on his shoulders shook him slightly for emphasis. “I don’t want you collapsing into your own ball of anxiety next time. I want to help you.”

He gave her a soft smile and a short kiss on the lips.

“I promise,” he said.


End file.
